


in a dream of you

by starwlkers



Series: in a softer galaxy [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Mass Effect 2, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 20:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwlkers/pseuds/starwlkers
Summary: Some things are harder to deal with. Shepard happens to be one those things. In hopes of moving on and ridding himself of guilt-riddled dreams, Joker decides to pick up the salvaged remains of Shepard's things.





	in a dream of you

 When they finish sifting through the wreckage of the once glorious Normandy, there is, of course, unclaimed boxes filled with moments of someone else’s life. One of those boxes belongs to Shepard.

After the others have all been sent back to family and loved ones, hers remains. It sits in a storage locker for far too long gathering dust.

The box haunts Joker’s dreams. As the does Shepherd herself. He counts on the nights where there is only darkness until the morning but most nights there is only the sound of her voice and the smell of Normandy burning, smoke and the cold grasp of space choking at him. He never sees her face but the memory of her hand reaching out for him is enough to wake him in a cold sweat.

After too many sleepless, haunting nights Joker makes up his mind. The box is easy to get. Shepard has no other family; no one to claim her things. She had the ship and her crew. The only thing left she had that had resembled a family. The box isn’t too large. Shepard had never liked bringing too many things with her on missions out. She had said she didn’t like the clutter but Joker knew very well she had a bad habit of collecting things at any shop she ever passed.

He stares at the box for a long while. His fingers twitch] and he bounces his leg hopelessly but can't bring himself to actually open it. The evening came and the sun went but the box remained just in the corner of his eyesight. He groans loudly, frustrated and angry all over again. Joke supposes this ache and anger would not ever truly go too far from him. Just another thing that would live inside him.

With a deep sigh, Joker finally reaches for the box. His fingers shake slightly as he slices through the tape and undoes the folds (this he would blame on his OI if anyone were to ever ask, not even on his first flight had he shook so much). Joker laughs loudly at the sight before him. At the top of the box were two now very ugly and charred models of a few classic space ships.

 

“Don’t bring or buy anything you really don’t need, my ass. “

 

He places them aside gently, thinking of how he could clean them up a bit (just so his apartment wouldn’t smell like smoke, of course). Next came what looked to be a book safe. He laughs at the thought of her actually hiding things in it. She probably stored even more tiny versions of her ships, he thought, grinning as he opened it up.

His laugh died in his throat when he came face to face with a picture of her. He picks up the old photo gently, careful not to damage it further. The photo looks to be from her days in the academy, the edges bent and slightly torn with age. Part of the photo now burnt away and lost, so whoever her arm had been around he couldn’t tell. Joker smiles at her, running a finger over her face. Her smile was blinding even here. Her hair dark auburn hair had been much longer before, falling past her elbows and curling at the ends. It was longer than he had ever seen it.

Joker stares at the photo longer than he should, longer than someone would think healthy. For a moment, he can hear her laugh as if she were in the room and his heart swells with ache and longing. All at once the photo is a wonderful and terrible thing.

Next, there is another old photo, much less damaged from the explosions. Shepard had been much younger here. Her hair was still long but she was much skinnier and wearing typical colonist attire. Next to her was a man who shared her smile and the same intense dark blue eyes. The woman beside him looked strikingly like Shepard. Joker turns the photo over, reading the faded handwriting. It wasn’t Shepard’s, the writing much too neat and sharper than hers had ever been.

“Jane, Scott, and Margot. 2168.” 

Only two years before Shepard’s settlement had been ravaged by slavers. Less than a dozen colonist made it out with their lives.

Joker had never taken her to be so sentimental. There are dozens of photos in the book safe. A few from her childhood but most of them from her time in the academy. Many were of her with who he assumes were once friends. Underneath the rest Joker finds photos of the crew. They are all mostly candid shots, most likely taken off guard. There’s a photo of each of them, all except him. He ignores the hurt that comes with not finding one of him and pushes down the sudden burst of anger that comes with it.

The rest of the box is filled knickknacks and even a few pieces of jewelry. They’re not something he’s ever seen her wear, not even on their nights out.

Her mothers, maybe?

The last thing he finds is an old, well-used leather journal. He can’t help laughing again. Even after she’s gone, Shepard never fails to surprise him. He should’ve known she would have never cared for electronic journals but who would’ve thought that she would keep up with writing one.

This one he holds in hands. Joker realizes with great pain that this holds the last of Shepard’s thoughts, stories of her life and dreams. He wants to open it, read every word until he knows nothing but it, but he doesn’t. Those are things that don't belong to him and never will.

He sighs and sets it down on the table before shutting off the lights and going to bed. It’s been much too long of a day.

Shepard’s things sit on the table for the next few days gathering dust and Joker's dreams still do not stop. Some nights they are much gentler. He can see her smiling again like in the photo he found. Her hair is long and she is calling his name.

_Jeff. Jeff._

_Shepard_ , he calls but she doesn’t answer. She just smiles and cups his face in her hands and leans forward, bumping her nose with his. He can see golden specks in her eyes this close. It’s too real, it's hard to breathe. He tries to hold onto her but his grip is never tight enough, he can't hold on for long. Joker watches as she leans closer and closer, lips brushing his and then she is gone.

Joker wakes up panting. It’s barely five in the morning but this is somehow the most sleep he's gotten. He gets up and takes a cold shower. The guilt is heavy and nagging. He doesn’t get to think of a dead woman that way (not her, never her).

The last few months have been unbearable. He walks around without a purpose. A job. Joker knows that the deliberations happening over Normandy are not a good sign for they have still not finished. The calls from the other crew members have already begun to dwindle. Soon, he thinks, there will be no more calls and no more Alliance ships in his future.

He does the same thing he does every day. Shower, grab a bite, flip through the channels, stare at her box.

Joker stands abruptly, feels a pop in his joints and mentally berates himself. He steps forward tenderly until he is sure nothing has fractured. He looms over the box and begins to rearrange the things inside, making sure everything has a place that fits. He hesitates when he reaches for the journal and flexes his hand as if he is unsure of what is to come of it.

He picks up the journal only to drop it when the door buzzes much too loudly.

“Shit!”

He walks to the entryway and opens the door only to find that no one is there. Just as he’s about to swear and slam the door he spots a glaringly white envelope on his floor mat. Joker grabs it, quickly looking for its messenger but he doesn’t catch anyone lurking in the shadows.

“Cerberus?”

He tosses the envelope somewhere on the counter before heading back to Shepard’s box. He picks up the fallen journal off the floor, dusting it gently and unbending the splayed pages when something slips out from between and falls towards the ground. He catches it swiftly between his fingers.

It's another photo. Joker flips it over and his mouth goes dry and he can feel his heart in his throat, tight and aching. It's a photo of them. He can't even remember taking it but it's them, it's real. It's Shepard. He can see the edge of her thumb in the corner of the photo and the photo is slightly blurred but it is perfect.

She had been so close. Their skin touching, her head resting slightly on his. It must've been a perfect moment.

Joker puts her things away in a proper place. Almost everything. The photo he keeps. He tucks it away in his wallet. Keeps it close everywhere he goes. On the nights the dreams come and he wakes unsettled he takes it out and looks at it, at her. It’s more comforting than he can say (unhealthy coping mechanisms be damned).

Shepard may not be in this world but she's still with him in more ways than one.

When Cerberus calls he's looking at the photo of the two of them. Joker accepts their offer, signs whatever they want and hopes that one day the dreams are a little more forgiving.


End file.
